Women Troubles
by Jasmin Liertha
Summary: Rules of dealing with women troubles: 1. Commiserate with similarly afflicted individual. 2. Get completely hammered. One-shot. RyoHana. 6996. Other implied pairings. Idiom prompt.


Idiom prompt: bury the hatchet_ – to put an end to an argument or disagreement, and to become friends again_

Warning: Mentions of slash (boyxboy) Only mentioned and implied between other Vongola members, but for those who can't stand it…

AN: This is the first time I've written Ryohei. I also know little about him aside from the few instances I've read him in fanfics, what I know from occasional trips to wikia and my friend's description. As I've only read several parts of the manga, I don't have a real grasp on Ryohei's character beyond the general 'idiot overprotective brother'. Hence, he may be very OOC.

* * *

It was, Ryohei decided, a very miserable day.

Hana had been screaming at him again. She had been pretty emotional the past week, even worse than her usual PMSing. This wasn't PMSing though. Nope. He would know. _Not _because of… certain activities. He wasn't like certain lucky bastards. No, he knew because a fortnight ago, he'd had the misfortune of being delegated to buying pads for her (when your girlfriend started screaming orders at you through the phone, you did it, no questions asked. Even if it was in the middle of day, when shops were _busy_…).

Back to the topic, he had been pretty valiant in keeping his calm under her increasingly ridiculous accusations. Like, a secret tryst with Levi. _Really_? He had standards too. Lambo and Bianchi had sat him down one day (after knocking him out—so he would stop ranting about boxing, they said) and explained to him, in no uncertain terms, that there was class, and there were questionable but acceptable actions, and then there was plain stupidity. Besides learning that someone really needed to get Lambo away from Bianchi and romance books ASAP, he also discovered that there were limits to friendliness and over-eagerness (now _that_ he had had some trouble with… what was wrong with relentlessly asking people to fight him? Huh? Other people taking it the wrong way?).

He presumed that monkeys counted as one of the 'do not be too friendly with, and for god's sake animals are not supposed to be your best friends' (Kangaryuu was still his best friend though, no matter what anyone said. He was _awesome_).

After more accusations, Hana had finally crossed his line in the sand and called his boxing stupid, and well, things had generated from there.

So, it was a miserable day. Even the fine sake he'd pestered Hibari into exporting from Japan's best winery couldn't change his mind.

Someone plopped down in the bar seat next to him, silhouette casting shadows on the hardwood counter in front of Ryohei. A dark-clad arm reached over the counter to pull a bottle and a shot glass from the rack.

"Women troubles?"

Ryohei glanced askance at Mukuro. "You too?"

Mukuro slumped on the bar and banged his head on the ivory wood, bottle and shot glass settled next to him. "You know the deal. Hyper-sensitive women, shouting, one wrong word and here I am… being pathetic with you." He poured a glass and downed it in one long gulp. And winced. "… Note to self, never do that ever again."

"Wimp." Ryohei took a swig straight from his sake bottle and took a moment to savor the taste. It _was_ very fine sake. Too bad he had to use it as anti-depressant instead of celebratory drink.

"Quiet," the illusionist grumbled. Then he sighed. "I can't even muster enough energy to squash your puny, pathetic human mind."

Ryohei snorted. "You say that every single time."

It was silent for a moment. Finally, they both sighed.

"Women," Mukuro started, with the air of someone imparting a grave knowledge, "are _troublesome_."

As the obligatory manly exchange of insults had passed, Ryohei held up his bottle in agreement. "I second that." He swallowed a mouthful. "Called my boxing stupid."

"It is," Mukuro said absently, chugging down another glass. "Chrome's got me on the couch indefinitely." Went unsaid was that 'indefinitely' was just another term for 'whenever the hell she feels like letting up'.

Ryohei ignored the jibe at his sport in favor of glancing pityingly at the other man. "That sucks. At least I don't live with my girlfriend."

"Yet you still hump like rabbits," was the bemused comment.

Ryohei nodded sagely. "That we do. Very creatively." He let out a long-suffering sigh, grumbling morosely, "Not that I've been getting any lately."

"I—" Mukuro drank straight from his bottle, glass lying forgotten on the counter. "—am not interested in your sex life." He added, almost an afterthought, "Miscreant."

"Deviant, Mukuro. I'm a sexual deviant," the boxer said blithely. "'sides, aren't you a voyeur? You sure as hell get chased often enough by Hibari... Plus, the photos," Ryohei added, referring to the pictures of a certain Vongola boss and his bedmate (an apt description, considering the nature of the photos) circling in the underground black market. Last he heard, Reborn had hoarded most of the stock and sold them at a _much_ higher price.

"Only Tsuna and Hibari." Mukuro shrugged. "They are very attractive. And adventurous."

"Chrome doesn't castrate you for that?"

"She agrees."

"Ah."

It was quiet again, with only the frequent sounds of alcohol being consumed breaking the monotony. "How did you and Chrome end up together anyway?" Ryohei spoke. A valid question; Mukuro wasn't the type to go out of his way to woo someone, and Chrome did seem too shy to do anything about her obvious affection. Emphasis on seem. Mukuro had hinted that _Chrome _had made the first move a while ago…

"It involved lots of rope." Mukuro pulled out another bottle from the rack, discarding his finished one to the side. "_Lots_ and lots of rope. And illusions."

"Huh. BDSM?"

Mukuro lifted an eyebrow, amused, and eyed him speculatively beneath the glaze of alcohol. "I wouldn't have pegged you and Hana as the type to know about this."

"Hana doesn't," Ryohei said, shrugging.

"You?"

"Varia. Bel and Fran. All those things plus knives."

Mukuro hummed wordlessly. "Knives, huh? We usually use tridents."

"_I_ don't need to know about _your_ sexual activities, Mukuro."

Humoring the comment with a careless, "You asked", Mukuro stared at his bottle. "I think I'm drunk."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm seeing goddamned pineapples." A thud of body hitting tile, and then silence.

Ryohei stared at the unconscious illusionist on the floor bemusedly, lightly kicking the half-empty bottle of alcohol in the man's grasp. It rolled out of the limp hands, revealing the label on its front. "Vodka. Figures."

He leaned back on the bar, chugging down the last of his sake, and contemplated the pros and cons of lugging Mukuro back to the illusionist's room at Vongola HQ. Deciding he really didn't want to know what unknowns lay in the man's room while less than sober and that Mukuro probably wouldn't appreciate waking up in the _Vongola_ mansion, he shrugged and pulled out his phone. The familiar number dialed, he waited for Chrome to pick up and wondered if this equaled handing Mukuro over to the mercy of a demon (no, really; obviously drunk, right after a fight?).

_Meh, he'll deal._

oooooo

Ryohei woke up to an incessant ringing in his head. His head which felt like it had been stomped on by dozens of giant hedgehogs. For a moment he thought that was what happened, then he remembered that Hibari was still in Namimori enforcing his dictatorial rule after a few months of absence (Hibari tended to call it pest control though).

Events of the previous night struck him right after the realization. With that back, however, he also remembered what had led to his drinking spree.

_Damn. Hana's probably still mad… _And if Chrome had told her about his call last night, she probably knew he had gone drinking too. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. What _was _he thinking last night, calling Hana's gossip buddy to get his drinking buddy home? At least he had gone to Vongola's private cocktail lounge instead of a pub.

Not to mention the headache. After he had called Chrome, following the rules of conduct in dealing with women troubles, he'd taken a portion of his beer stash and proceeded to get totally smashed in his own room.

The ringing in his head continued and he moaned, throwing his face into his pillow.

_Maybe I can drown it._

It continued, stopped after a minute, started up again, and Ryohei realized that that wasn't his head being a bitch. Peering to the side, eyes squinted to see in the dim light of his bedside lamp, he saw his vibrating cell phone on the desk on the other side of the room. Groaning, he went to get it. Best to get it, in case it was actually important; or, in case it was from Kyoko. Or Hana.

A perk of having a private, sound-proofed room: no one could see or hear you staggering over empty bottles, bumping into walls and cursing up a shitstorm.

Finally getting through the deathtrap his room had became, Ryohei flipped open the phone and muttered a weak greeting, eyes closed in a useless attempt to get rid of his headache.

"Ryohei?"

_Eep._ "Hana?"

Silence. Ryohei tried to calculate the chances of him getting out of this alive with his hangover still prominent, but gave it up as a lost cause. He wasn't Gokudera.

Hana's voice rang out from the other end, sharp as usual but less harsh than the previous day. "Look, Ryohei. I'm sorry, okay? I really blew it last night. I'm just... not in my best condition right now."

Huh. That was better than he expected. "Oh."

"… You are hungover, aren't you. I can hear it in your voice." Well, good thing was, Hana didn't sound mad about it. She sounded guilty, actually. Reflecting, Ryohei took back his previous thought. This _might _be bad. Hana rarely ever sounded guilty. Especially not when Ryohei's drinking habits came home to roost. "Never mind," Hana sighed. "I'm sorry, Ryohei."

"Er, okay." What to say, what to say. "So, are we burying the hatchet?"

"Yeah." Ryohei could almost hear the faint smile in her voice. Silence _again_. "… Ryohei?"

Ryohei _almost_ gulped at her hesitancy. This _was _bad. Hana wasn't hesitant. Ever.

"I'm pregnant."

Later, Ryohei would blame his fainting on the hangover.

oooooo

"Fainting. Very manly, Ryohei."

"Shut up, Mukuro."

"So, you're marrying her. Cheers. Say farewell to bachelor life, sucker."

"This is payback for leaving you to Chrome, isn't it?"

"Why, you seem to have procured a brain. Marriage must be good for you."

"Just shut up and drink the damn beer."


End file.
